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CinderF*cker	By : Aewnaur Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 2179 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CinderF*cker
- 1
Another Crack fic from the minds of Bia and Aewnaur.. .. .. Bia woke up while my son was watching Cinderella the old disney version and she just had to freakin say it.. sigh.. now she has lived here how long now.. and she just had to go and say some shit like this .. .. to ME!!!! .. so while yes i did write it and everything i totally blame her for this crackhead fic.. .. with out further ado.. this will be included in the fic Sleeping with the Enemy that i am working on.. Coming Soon but there is NO MORE to this!!!

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CinderFucker..
Disclaimer: Em belongs to Dre and Dre belongs to me.. err.. no that should be Dre belongs to Em and I belong to Em.. err.. no that still isn't right.. forget it.. i don't own either of them.. sigh.. more the freakin pity..

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CinderFucker

“The fuck you say,” Marshall growled. “I didn’t pay that fuckin’ much last week muthafucka.” He put the loaf of bread back down as if it burned his fingers, and turned away.

“Marshall hurry up. Justin and Britney are hungry,” his mother Debbie screeched.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath as he turned back. “You’d better fuckin’ give me all this shit for the price I paid last week, or I’m going to come across this fuckin’ table and kick your ass.”

The market guy stepped back slightly and nodded as the angry young man laid the two shillings on the table and took whatever he wanted. Everyone in the village knew not to mess with the young man. Violence surrounded him like a cloak.

Marshall turned back to the carriage with the small basket. His half brother and sister were being petted by Debbie. He grumbled all the way back to the large cottage. His bitch-slut of a mom just wouldn’t fuckin’ leave though so he had to share with the bitchletts, better known as Justin and Britney.

!@#$

Prince JC sat lounging in a chair watching the doves frolic in the atrium. His musings were interrupted by Duke Kirkpatrick.

“You know your father isn’t going to let you get away from this ball. You simply must attend. The notices are being sent out as we speak,” sighed the put upon Duke.

“Oh, Chris, you know I won’t like any of the women he finds. They only want me because I am the Crown Prince. I want someone who wants me because I am a man.”

“You know that isn’t true my Prince. Women want you because you are perfection in human form. Being a prince is only a small part of that.” He would kneel down and blow sunshine directly up Prince Joshua’s ass if it would get the King to leave him alone about this damned ball.

“Fine. I’ll show up. But don’t expect me to be all lollipops and rainbows. And damn it this time make sure there are sparkles on my suit jacket,” JC pouted. Last time there hadn’t been any, and he ‘liked’ sparkles.

!@##$

Marshall was cleaning the floor in the entryway when the knock came. He stormed over to the door and flung it open.

“What the fuck you bangin’ on my door for. Cut that shit out.” The words were out of his mouth before he saw who was there. When he saw it was one of the King’s men he cursed internally. Well shit, fuck and goddamn!

The uniformed man gave him an evil glare before thrusting the rolled parchment into his hands.

“What the fuck is this?” He growled.

“It is for the Lady of the house,” the snobby guard rolled his eyes before turning imperiously away.

Marshall slammed the door and walked to the sun room where Debbie would be sipping her daily gallon of wine. He walked in and threw the scroll into her lap before turning back and slamming out of the room.

A few hours later he started hearing loud yelling from up stairs. He went to investigate what would make Justin and his twin Britney yell at each other. It was bound to be good material to pick at them with later.

“A ball,” the Bitch squealed. “We’re going to a ball. And the Prince will be there. Choosing a wife!”

“Or a husband,” Justin threw in. They were both throwing clothing all over the room. “What am I going to wear? I don’t have a thing to wear to a royal ball,” he shared a horrified look with his sister.

“Mother!!” They both yelled at the same time.

Marshall shook his head to clear the high pitched wailing from his ears. Damn bitch diva’s the both of them. He turned to leave the room before the biggest bitch of them all could see him. No such luck. The bitch spotted him before he could get away.

“What are you doing hovering here in the shadows? You don’t really think you could attend a royal ball do you? In what, surely not the clothes you wear!” she laughed and shook her head, taking in his baggy trousers and overly large shirt. “Go to the kitchen and prepare my family a meal. And be quick about it.”

Marshall cursed all the way to the kitchen. If he had given her any lip she would have given him to the gardener to be whipped. He wasn’t a dumb animal it only took getting the whip a couple of times before he had learned to curb his tongue around the harpy of a woman. Well ok so he was stubborn. It had taken more than just a couple of times. But eventually he had learned. And what did she mean his clothes? There wasn’t a fuckin’ thing wrong with what he was wearin’. What would that bitch know about what looked good? Her with her foofoo dresses that made her ass and hips look three times their size.

He was still cursing the next night when the rest of the family was getting ready to leave. He had spotted the letter from the King earlier. It had said every eligible person in the Kingdom was to attend tonight’s ball. That meant that he could go to. He had snuck around all day and gotten his best trousers and shirt ready. Now all he had to do was find a way to get there, because sure as fuck he wasn’t riding in with those fuckers. He didn’t want anyone to know they were related.

As soon as the carriage left he ran up to the attic and threw on his clothes. Yeah Fuck it, he was ready.

He stood in the drive way for a few minutes thinking about how he could get to the castle. And fuck all if he could think of a way except to just walk. And for fuck’s sake if he did that the ball would be over by the time he got half way. Not to mention he didn’t actually know how to get there. He sighed. What had he been thinking’ anyway? Going to a ball. That was just some fucked up shit right there. Hmm, he would have to ask the guy at the market just what the hell was in that pipe weed he had bought the other day.

He sat on the bench in the gazebo cursing everybody and everything in his shitty life when a loud bang sounded beside him. He jumped to his feet ready to defend himself if needs be.

A tall black man appeared in a puff of smoke. Wearing... What the fuck?! A purple double breasted silk suit? And was that a peacock feather in his black leather beret? What the fuck was he holding? A stick with a hand on the end, shooting the fuckin’ bird.

“Who the fuck are you?” Marshall asked in slight awe.

“People call me the Godfather.” The deep voice resonated deep in Marshall’s chest. Until the words hit him.

“You’re a fuckin fair..” he stopped mid word as the man's eyes narrowed.

“You finish that word I’ma kick your ass, boy.”

“Ya, alright. Whatever. What the fuck you doin’ here?” Like he said before he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to challenge this muthafucka.

“No way was I going to let that Diva bitch have all the fun tonight,” growled the snicker fairy godfather.

“Which diva bitch?” Marshall chuckled.

“Pick one. Well what the hell you waiten on? Go get me something I can use to make a coach out of,” the impatient man growled.

Marshall took off to look for something. He hunted around for anything that could be useful. Finally he stopped and shook his head, was the guy a fairy or what. He should be able to change anything into a coach. He cursed as he grabbed the nearest thing and trudged back to the gazebo.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What the fuck does it look like? You slow or something?”

“What the hell do you want me to do with this?”

“Are you a fairy or not. Change it into a coach. And it’d better be a fuckin manly assed one too.”

“Boy I kid you not if I hear that word one more time tonight I will turn you into a sparkle lover,” the Godfather growled.

“Damn man you ain’t gotta be nasty about it! What the fuck is your name anyway? M’ I just supposed to call you Godfather all fuckin night?”

“The name is Dre. Some people call me the Doctor of love,” Dre purred.

“Yeah but how many call you the Joker?”

“Fucker, you’d better be nice to my ass, if you want to get to this damn ball. And what the fuck you waitin on? Christmas. Get your ass in gear. You gonna need something to pull this bitch.”

Again Marshall took off to find something for his godfather to use. This time however he didn’t take forever in his search. He went straight to the closest mouse trap and brought back a mouse.

“Mother fucker what the hell you expect me to do with this?”

“Magic it up til it can drive. What the fuck else you gonna do with it?! It’s a fuckin mouse!”

“Goddamn boy, I’m afraid to ask you to go get a driver, you’d probably just come back with a fuckin dog. I can do that much on my own. Damn kids these day’s expected me to work miracles,” Dre grumbled under his breath as he whistled for the dog he had seen hanging around earlier.

When everything was together he glared at it for a while. He hated this part. He took a deep breath and turned to his young charge. “You say one fuckin’ word, I’ma kill your ass.” Then he turned back to his work.

It took all of Marshall’s very little self control to not bust out laughing as the man waved his ’Fuck You’ wand over the assembled items. Bright green, neon pink and silver sparkles shot out of the tip of the finger, while Dre chanted Bippity-Boppity-Boo fuckin’ Hoo. It was the funniest thing Marshall had ever seen. Finally the pumpkin, mouse and dog turned into a long purple Cadillac, complete with gold rims on the tires and purple running lights underneath.

Then he turned his eyes on Marshall. Marshall froze. That couldn’t be a good look. Again with the chanting only this time he was pointing his stick at him. Oh fuck!

Marshall looked down at himself. “Oh hell fuckin’ No! What the fuck is this? Purple sparkles? I think the fuck not!”

“Are you telling me how to do my job muthafucka?” Dre exclaimed.

“Yes the fuck I am, if this is how you do your shit. Change it back, right the fuck now.”

Dre sighed, kids these days just had no taste. He waved his wand again. “There happy now, ya big baby.”

Marshall glanced down again. Skin tight black leather pants and boots. Yeah ok that works. White silk button down shirt tucked.. He pulled that out quickly.. Hanging loose. Yeah okay he could live with this. As he looked back up he noticed something about his hair was different.

“What the fuck did you do to my fuckin’ hair?”

“Just gave you a cut and a little style. You needed help with that mop of shit boy. I ain’t changing it so don’t even ask.”

“Fuck, alright whatever. As long as I don’t look like a fairy,” Marshall winced when he saw the eyes narrow. He felt magic wash over him again. For a minute all he saw was silver sparkles.

Oh, Fuck!

The end.. .
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